


Blood Market, Love Market

by areyoukiddingme



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Blood, Drugs, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Overdosing, Parent Death, Smut, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23546434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoukiddingme/pseuds/areyoukiddingme
Summary: "Why are you here?""She died from a Z overdose. It's your fault my mother's dead."~Confronted by a wrathful daughter of one of his ex-regulars, Graverobber has to come to terms with the effect his work has on others.
Relationships: GraveRobber (Repo!)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	Blood Market, Love Market

There was only one way of getting Z. Proper, undiluted zydrate, not that stuff GeneCo gave out before surgeries. You had to find yourself a Graverobber.

He'd take the risk of visiting the morgues at night so you didn't have to, extract the zydrate and then give it out in the shadiest alleys to all of the scalpel sluts who just couldn't get enough. Tonight, as most nights, he was surrounded by a hoard of z-starved women, money exchanging hands in return for a shot of one of the blue vials. A few of the women had neon coloured hair, a very visual representation of their genetic modification while others were more subtle, their designer hearts beating dully in their chests.

" _Graverobber!_ "

A shout shattered the peaceful proceedings. A woman stood at the end of the alley with her hands on her hips, an intimidating and aggressive silhouette against the orange glow of the streetlights. The disreputable women scattered like marbles, revealing the Graverobber at the centre, his head angled towards the commotion.

Ratty, unkempt hair interspersed with coloured streaks hung from his shoulders over a battered brown leather coat. From the state of him, it looked like he merely wore clothes until they fell off of his person, which was especially true of his shirt that was a grimy yellow colour, full of holes and tears. Calf-high boots were strapped firmly to his legs by innumerable buckles and a zydrate gun filled with the intoxicating blue liquid was strapped to his side in a worn pouch.

The woman stalked towards him and a flicker of recognition crossed his features; he knew her. From where or how he couldn’t remember, and she didn’t give him the time to think on it as her hand closed around his neck and she shoved him against the rough brickwork. No stranger to hostile interactions, he merely smiled as she manhandled him, dark lips widening.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Her expression darkened at his nonchalant response and she closed her hand tighter around his neck. 

She was dressed almost prudishly in comparison to the other women that had surrounded the Graverobber. Her collar closed in tight around her neck, hiding any scars she might have from surgery, and her waist was artificially cinched in by a black waspie corset. Her dark skirt feathered down to just above her knees and fishnets covered the exposed parts of her legs. A tiny, anatomically correct heart hung from her neck which the Graverobber fixed on as she strangled him.

”Shade, my dear.”

Despite the hand around his neck, he reached out and lifted the pendant with his palm. The charm had jogged his memory, despite it not hanging on the neck he usually associated it with. 

“Wasn’t that was your mother’s?”

Shade yanked the charm from his hand, unreserved anger flooding into her face. She leaned in close to him, close enough to hiss into his face;

"She’s fucking dead." 

"Oh, Bee? That is a shame, I liked her.” He said before shrugging. “Well, she always paid me promptly, at least.”

At that, she whipped out a small knife that glittered dangerously in the half-light of the alley. Lifting it to his neck, he raised his chin in an effort to avoid the blade but only ended up exposing the pale, delicate skin in the process. His facetiousness was gone in an instant, replaced with an seriousness that he hardly ever showed to the outside world.

"Why are you here?"

"She died from a Z overdose. It's your fault my mother's dead."

"Hey, you can't blame me for your mother's-"

The knife suddenly came into contact with his skin and he flinched, abruptly changing his tactic.

"I just sell the stuff, okay? Once it leaves my hands, it's not my responsibility anymore."

He kept his voice low and level, hands raised in submission to try and dissuade her from making any rash decisions. The anger on her face flickered and her eyebrows knitted together as she had second thoughts. While her conviction faltered, he took advantage of the moment, yanking the knife from her hand and using his height advantage to flip their dynamic. He swung her body around, shoving her against the wall bodily and held the knife against her neck. It was intended to intimidate her more than actually threaten her, but the moment he lifted the knife her face crumpled.

He watched her uncertainly as her chin fell to her chest and shoulders dropped. Then she let out a loud sob and he jumped back as if she'd scalded him. She began to cry unreservedly, her chest contracting and sobs echoing down the alley.

"She was a fucking shit excuse for a mother!" She cried out into the ether. "But I didn't want her to die! Even though I said it, I didn't want her to die..."

Covering her mouth with her hand, she slid down the wall and fell heavily onto the floor. Graverobber kept his distance, his arms lifted and concern etched into his features. He looked up and down the alley uselessly; no-one else was stepping forward to deal with this mess of a human being.

He could still feel the presence of the vulture lurking in the shady corners of the alley but none of them emerged. Something like this was too easy to get involved in and not simple enough to get out of. But he was already involved, whether he liked it or not, and business couldn't go on like normal with this wretch crying her heart out on the floor. Sighing dramatically, he leaned down and shoved his arms beneath her armpits, pulling her to her feet. The moment he relinquished his support, however, she simply slumped back down against the wall. Lifting his eyes heavenwards, he sighed again. He’d have to deal with this the hard way. Bending over, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other beneath her knees, pulling her up into a bridal carry. She squirmed and protested but her tears weakened her and she couldn’t release herself from his broad, muscular arms. 

Carrying her down the alley and away from prying eyes, her sobs subsided and she looked up at the man who she had come to kill. He was a merciless drug dealer, a vile excuse of a human being. But from this vantage point he was just... a guy. A guy with a less-than-moral profession, but who was moral in this day and age? In a world where it was getting harder and harder to find a job, where you were born with debt that you could never repay. He was just trying to pay his way, in the same way her mother was trying to forget just how shit everything was.

They continued across deserted streets and narrow staircases, his pace never tiring. Now they were far from the shady alley they had started in and she wondered just how much strength was hidden in the arms caught up beneath her. Perhaps trying to murder him was a bad idea. 

It was only then she noticed that they had arrived at a dingy looking apartment block and he shouldered the door open, his rough movements jarring her in his arms. He took her up the stairs and into, presumably, his own apartment. Once inside, he lumped her unceremoniously onto a misshapen couch and she groaned in protest.

"You need a drink." 

He disappeared into another room and while he was gone, she righted herself and scrubbed the remaining tears from her cheek. As well as the lumpy couch she was currently on, there was a shabby coffee table and a litter of unexplainable cardboard boxes scattered across the floor. Absently, she wondered if he actually owned the place or whether he was just squatting.

Graverobber emerged again, two bottles in his hand, one of which he tossed to her. She caught it, twisting off the cap and taking a long swig before he could even say a word. Perching himself opposite her on the coffee table that didn’t look as though it could support his weight, he crossed his legs beneath him as though it was second nature.

"I really am sorry about your mother." He said after a while, taking the top off of his own drink.

She gave him a look over the top of her drink.

”Like you care.”

"Of course I care. You think I know every one of those whores names? Their daughters' names?"

"That's different, I collected from you." She retorted, shrugging.

"You think you're the only one?"

She warily met his eyes only to see that his were already fixed on her. His black-rimmed eyes held no small amount of animal magnetism, and now she understood why women were willing to get on their knees for him in a skanky alley. She looked away, curling into herself on the couch.

"Were you really going to kill me?" He asked curiously.

"No."

She didn’t look him in the eyes as she said it.

She took another drink, filling the silence with alcohol. When she got the courage to look at him again she watched as he removed her knife from his jacket. He tossed it to her disinterestedly and her reflexes caught it before she had time to think. The knife slit across two of her fingers, the others thankfully catching the handle instead. She inhaled through her teeth and inspected the cut as he abruptly stood. His form hulked over her, broad shoulders eclipsing her light and she slowly looked up at him, heart pounding in her chest. He could make an imposing figure when he wanted to. 

"Look, you need someone to hate, I get that. And feel free to hate me. Loathe me. Curse my very existence. Just- don't try anything like that again. Because I know these streets, and I won’t hold back next time.”

With him standing over her, she suddenly felt like a small child being scolded. But this was serious, this was dangerous, and she could practically taste the threat he was making in the air. She nodded and he eased up, letting his shoulders relax and fists unclench.

"Good." He said, heaving himself down on the sofa beside her. "'Cause I don't want to hurt you."

"Gee, thanks."

He reached over and took her wounded hand in his own, his grip strong enough to stop her from flinching away. His hands were cold and as he eased her fingers back, the cuts stretched so that more blood welled up into them, beading on the surface of her skin. He smudged the blood up her fingers with his thumb, the sting reminding her of his warning as he left scarlet marks on both her skin and his own. 

"Blood is cheap.”

His voice was low and gravelly and made her feel something deep in her belly. Wrenching her hand away from him, she clutched her hand to her chest, trying to ignore the spark he had set inside her. 

"That doesn't mean I want mine out of my body." 

She watched in part-horror, part-fascination as he licked the blood, her blood, off of his thumb.

"You're fucked." She spat. 

“You’re the one who held a knife to my neck earlier.”

Scowling at the floor, she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t anything like him. He leaned over and took out his gun, slotting into it an enticing vial of the glowing blue liquid.

"You want some Z?" 

"You want me to die in the same way my mother did?" 

"It'll take the edge off." He assured her.

She looked between him and the gun. It would be so easy, so easy to just forget, if only for a little bit. But she knew, even though she was loathed to admit it, how similar she was to her mother. How that one hit would turn into two, and then a lifetime of debt trying to chase that impossible high.

"No."

She stood, thrusting her half-empty bottle into his hands. He took it and looking up at her with those piercing eyes edged with black.

"I'll see you around, Shade."

"No you won't."

* * *

A knock at the door. Graverobber started upright on his sofa, his head snapping towards the entrance to his apartment. A few seconds passed before another knock shattered the silence. He groaned and lifted himself upright, staggering groggily towards the door. Eyeing the miniscule peephole, he could see a very shattered looking Shade standing on his welcome mat, her arms crossed over herself.

"I should never have taken you back here." He muttered to himself. 

"Graverobber?" She said hoarsely, her eyes lifting to the glass. "I know you're there. I need some Z."

His eyebrows furrowed and he opened the door. He left the chain attached (she had tried to kill him the last time they saw each other) so as the door pulled back it bounced, the tether going taut, only allowing them to see each other through the small crack.

"I don't think that's a good idea. I heard addictions run in families."

"Since when do you care? Just give it to me."

"No." He said before shutting the door on her face.

Another harsh knock.

"I can pay." She said through the wood.

He exhaled heavily, pulling back the chain and opening the door fully for her. She reluctantly stepped over the threshold, holding out a fistful of cash.

"You know the first time is free." 

"Then let me have it."

"Fine." He conceded, making his way towards his sofa and picking up the discarded brown pouch.

He picked up his zydrate gun, a dull silver object slightly rusted in places, as well as one of the vials of glow. She swallowed, shifting from foot to foot.

"Is it your first time?" He asked, noting her nervous body language.

"Outside of a GeneCo lab."

"Right. So street zydrate is a little different from that stuff." He informed her, clicking the glowing blue vial into the gun with skilled hands. "It's a little stronger than what you're probably used to."

"Whatever."

”I’m just saying, be prepared.” 

Lowering his gaze, he placed his left hand on her shoulder, the other poised with the gun. She suddenly realised how close he was to her, his pale face mere inches from her own and cool, steady hands weighing on her body. Her breath caught in her throat; she’d always been attracted to him, even before she knew what attraction really was.

When her mother had sent her out to collect Z on her behalf he’d always been nice to her, but she was never the centre of his attention. There was always some other woman he was flirting with, saying dirty things to, so she could admire his strange handsomeness from afar. But now he had his hands on her and there was no other women around and he was being so _gentle_. She knew him, knew his habits and knew he didn’t treat his girls this way, not in that alley where all kinds of sin take place. 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She asked as he took her by the shoulder and led her against the wall.

"You've lost your mom." He said sincerely.

The hurt that played in his eyes told her that he lost someone too, once. His hand brushed the inside of her thigh, using it as a guide to lead the gun up her skirt and between her legs.

"You alright, kid?" He asked, watching her fidget.

"Yeah."

He looked into her eyes and she nodded. She tensed as he pulled the trigger and the gun sparked, making that electronic noise that all zydrate guns make. A noise that she had become so familiar with in her years spent with her mother. 

As the drugs flooded her system, her vision became a blue vignette and her head dropped. She skimmed down the wall, her skirt hitching up as she lowered herself to the floor, her extremities numbing. Through blurry eyes, she could see him crouch in front of her. Reaching out towards her, his hand brushed her shoulder she felt hot needles of pleasure scraping along her skin. She closed her eyes, leaning into the touch that set her body on fire.

A dark thought crept into his head. He could just take her now. He'd taken other girls who'd reacted like this before. They didn’t remember the next time they woke up, and even if they did, they’d probably thank him for it. But doing that to Shade didn’t feel... quite right. He inwardly cursed his sporadic moral compass, trying to ignore her moans as he scooped her up into his arms.

He lay her down on the couch and her body settled. From this close, he could see that the whites of her bleary eyes were tinged with blue and he was amazed, again, with just how much Z could affect the body. Standing up and looking at the small, frail thing on his sofa, he cracked his knuckles anxiously. He paced for a few seconds before sitting down, picking up his gun again and fiddling with it, his eyes intermittently straying back to her. Then he looked back to his gun, shaking his head.

* * *

Shade came to slowly and over a long period of time. Flashes of an unfamiliar apartment was her life for what seemed like the longest time, the unfamiliarity of it not scaring her in her still-numb state. It was a while until the fog cleared from her brain and allowed her to remember who she was and where she was. As she looked around the room, vague memories of Graverobber filtered into her head. His legs crossed beneath him on the coffee table, his tongue on her blood, the feeling of his hand trailing up her thigh. Even in the numbness she could feel her heart racing in her chest and she eased herself upright, looking for the man whose apartment it was.

He wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She leaned back into the sofa, basking in the pleasantly numb state until she began to notice unpleasant things, the cold breeze on her arm and hunger beginning to gnaw at her stomach. Not knowing how long she'd been out of it, she decided to get up before the Z wore off completely. Standing, she noticed something scribbled on the back of a magazine thrown haphazardly onto the coffee table. 

_‘Had business to take care of. Look after yourself.’_

She picked it up, holding it to the light. Underneath the note, instead of a signature there was a gravestone with a tiny cross etched into it. She smiled to herself and picked up the pen discarded beside the note.

_‘Thank you.’_

She set down the magazine before picking it up again.

_‘For everything.’_

She added, then turned to leave. But before she left, she raided his fridge to fend off that ache of hunger. He wouldn't care. And even if he did, he knew where she lived.

* * *

Dark alleys were becoming a way of life for her, as unfortunate as it was. As she waited, she scratched her fingernail against the bricks, feeling them crumble beneath her hand. Further down the alley, someone jumped down from a fire escape, landing heavily onto the floor. She stepped forward, squinting in the half-light.

"Graverobber!

The figure stopped and turned. She ran up to them, seeing as she got closer the surprise on his face.

"I need some more of the glow." She panted, finally catching up to him. 

Despite there being no hope in his eyes before, the moment she said that there was a distinct lack of it. His features went slack and he sighed.

"I have a place where I do these things, you know."

She knew where his alley was, of course she did. But in that alley was a throng of other women, women hotter and more seductive than she was, distracting him. She needed him on his own, where his focus was entirely on her. That was what she told herself, anyway, instead of admitting to herself how jealous she was seeing him with other women. 

He pursed his lips, holding out his hand to her.

"I don't have any money." She rambled nervously, staring at his open hand.

"You had some before."

"A girl's gotta eat." 

He turned from her and she quickly grabbed him by the shoulder before he could run away.

"Wait!" She exclaimed. "I heard there's other ways a girl can pay."

He grimaced, his eyes trailing up and down her body before he shook his head.

"No. No way."

She looked at him desperately as he began to walk away again.

"Come on, you're the infamous Graverobber! You're supposed to want to fuck anything that moves."

Her desperation had turned ugly, turning to mocking him to try and get what she wanted. She knew what she was doing but couldn’t bring herself to stop, the taunting only buying her more time to persuade him to give her some Z.

"Or, anything that doesn't move. If the rumours are to be believed."

”Of course people say that.”

"What? That you’re a necrophiliac?"

"They only say that because I spend so much time around corpses."

"Do you get them confused sometimes?" She jeered, doing an impression of someone on Z. Her face went limp while her hand went between her legs with a sharp jolting motion.

He turned and started stalking towards her, walking so fast that she looked panicked for a moment as she quickly stumbled backwards. Her back hit the wall of the alley with a thud and stopped directly in front of her. His shoes were touching hers they were so close and his eyes were filled with fire. God he was hot when he was angry.

"The lines do blur, occasionally." He said in a husky voice, matching her taunting with teasing of his own. "There's only one thing that's real any more. One thing in this dead husk of a world that excites me."

He slipped a hand between her legs and her eyes widened as she rose to her tip-toes. An embarrassing small noise came from the back of her throat, betraying his effect on her. He smirked, having finally wrestled control of the situation from her.

"What's the matter, little girl?"

Goose bumps rose on the back of her neck and her expression soured in an attempt to mask her attraction to him.

"I'm not a little girl." 

He cocked his head, amusement on his features as he rubbed his hand between her legs. She impulsively reached out to touch his chest but, quicker than her own reflexes could react, he had grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the wall behind her. Looking between her wrist and him, she was momentarily stunned before her mouth broke into a wide grin.

"You think I can't handle it?" She arched her eyebrow, her raised hand clenching into a fist.

Something dark and animalistic filtered into his expression as she met his advances with arrogance. There was something satisfying in bending towards someone as cocky as yourself, as he'd discovered with Amber.

"Fuck it." He uttered harshly.

He grabbed her shoulder, his fingers digging into her skin as he wrenched her around. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't resist the strength of his arm as he shoved her around with ease. Slamming her into the wall, her cheek scraped against the rough brickwork and she smiled at the pain it caused her. He held his palm flat against her back and leant into it with all the weight he needed. He had her pinned in place like a butterfly.

She shifted, lifting her hands to either side of her face. Using his free hand, he hooked his thumb on her underwear and pulled it down her legs in a fluid, practiced motion. The cool night air hit her between her legs and she gasped, resisting the urge to cross her legs against the elements. He seemed to predict her impulse, forcing his knee between her legs to keep them open with his hand still firm in the centre of her back. He manoeuvred behind her and she could hear a zipper being pulled, the sound of it making her stomach twist in anticipation.

"You sure about this kid?"

She could feel the broad man's body heat behind her, his heat and animalistic tendencies already making her wet.

"Yeah." She muttered breathlessly.

At her almost inaudible consent, she could feel him move behind her. She felt him tease her entrance, a dizzying moment of adrenaline passing as she waited. Then he forced his length inside of her using one harsh thrust. She cried out, her voice echoing in the silence of the alley in the dead of night. He quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, his fingernails digging into her cheek as her noises turned into whimpers at the back of her throat. Letting her body adjust to him, he shifted only slightly before starting to thrust. 

His hands went from her cheek and back to settle on her hips, feeling the harsh outline of her pelvis through the layers of her skirt. Pulling her hips towards him as well as thrusting upwards, every thrust felt harder and deeper than the last and her insides felt as though they were on fire. She struggled for purchase on the wall, wishing that she had something to dig her nails into as he rut into her. 

His pace slowed and her mouth dropped open as he used long, smooth strokes, filling her entirely with every pulse. A hand dropped from her hips and caressed her jaw before moving to her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers entered her mouth, the moist heat surrounding his digits. She swirled her tongue around them before biting down harshly, the vibrations of his groan running through her. He sped up again, his fingers still hooked in her mouth.

She could feel her climax building in the pit of her stomach and could hear that he was close too, his breaths hot and harsh against her ear. Finally lifting his fingers from her mouth, he dropped his hand back to her hips so he could drive himself into her as fiercely as he wanted to, building to his own orgasm. She didn’t care about any noises she was making now, the cries he tore from her simply background noise to the pleasure that was building inside of her. She slammed her fist against the wall as she came, her vision briefly blacking out as she surrendered to her orgasm. As her body constricted she could feel him loose himself behind her, his own hips spasming as he came.

He fell forward until they were both flush to the wall, breathing heavily in tandem. She closed her eyes and relished in the feeling of the man pressed against her, his broad shoulders completely shielding her from the outside world. No matter how much of a scumbag he was, this was the first time in a long while that she'd felt safe. Even if she had just been forced up against a wall and fucked for drugs.

She swallowed and her eyebrows furrowed; she couldn’t be any further away from wanting Z in that moment. The world that she had wanted to numb was suddenly vibrant again, full of promise and tints of overwhelming pleasure that the drug couldn’t give. He braced his hand against the wall beside her and lifted himself off of her, giving her room to turn and face him. She looked into his piercing, dark eyes and her lips parted to say something as a familiar electronic noise echoed through the alleyway.

Her eyes widened and her already-weak knees gave way beneath her. There was a dull thud as her body hit the pavement. The last thing she saw was a pair of heavy, intricately buckled boots before her eyes unfocused and she passed out.

* * *

Shade came to in the early morning. Her eyelids were the first thing to move, the barest flutter before they opened, squinting against the dim morning light. Despite not being able to feel it yet, she forced her arm to prop herself up on her elbow. Everything in the alley had a slight sheen, the early morning dew coating the pavement and her own bare arms and legs. She thanked god she couldn't feel anything yet, her body must be freezing. An empty zydrate vial was discarded right next to where her head had been. She hazily picked it up, examining the vial. Graverobber.

That bastard! How dare he fuck her and leave her in an alleyway. _At least he’s treating me like his other girls now,_ she scowled, flinging the vial at the wall opposite. It shattered in a satisfying explosion of glass and metal.

She tried to get up but found herself having trouble, more trouble than numb limbs would give her. Looking down, she saw her knickers still in a tangle at her ankles. Her face flushed. It was bad enough being passed out on Z in the middle of an alleyway, but having your underwear around your ankles was nothing short of incriminating. She pulled them up with some difficulty before using the wall to help her stand upright. And thus began the agonising trek back to her apartment, her arm braced against the wall as support and numb legs slowly coming to life beneath her.

* * *

Graverobber stood among a throng of women, a satchel full of zydrate strapped to his side and an idle smirk on his face. This is what made rummaging through corpses and graves worth it. He held a vial of Z up and watched the girls drool, his black lips stretching wider and wider until he spotted a face in the crowd that made his smile drop.

He pushed away the girls that were suffocating him while his mouth pulled into a thin, taught line. The girls surged forward again, still pulling at his sleeves and pushing money his way.

"Time's up." He muttered.

He wrenched himself free of the grip the girls had on him, turning and walking away from them all. Every last one of them whimpered and pined uselessly, extending their hands towards him, some of them falling to their knees in their desperation. Only one of them stepped forward, running after him as he took off.

He was always one step ahead, using his expert knowledge of the dingy streets to try and loose his pursuivant. The follower in question continued to run, even after she thought she’d lost him, running until she collided violently with someone standing behind a sharp corner. She stumbled backwards, swearing and clutching her head.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Shade snapped at Graverobber, still recovering from running full-pelt into his broad chest. He didn’t seem bothered by the collision, standing stiffly, his dark eyes fixed on her. Something akin to anger was tinging his features, but she couldn't understand why he'd be angry. She had more reason to be angry with him, seeing as he'd fucked her and discarded her so easily the other night.

"Don't do this to yourself." He said through gritted teeth, his hand flexing by his side.

"What are you taking about?"

"You were supposed to get your angsty teen rebellion shit out of the way, realise it wasn't getting you anywhere and move on." He said harshly. "You weren't supposed to get hooked."

"Don't pretend you care about me now!" She retorted, responding badly to his ill-temper. "You fucked me in an alleyway, pumped me full of drugs and left me there!"

"I had to do that."

"Like hell you did."

"You had to realise what you were doing was stupid."

”Well it didn’t work.”

Her eyes burned into him and his jaw flexed, trying to restrain himself from lashing out again. 

“I didn’t need anything that night. You made me forget it all; my mother, money, the repo guy. And now I can’t even remember it, I don’t even have the memory to cling to.” After saying this she spat out a harsh laugh. "How fucking pathetic. The only time I'm at peace is when a stranger’s shagging me against a wall."

The anger on his face morphed into confusion. His dark eyebrows knitted together and she stared at him in disbelief.

“So I come to you to help me forget it all again but you flip the fuck out, even though _you’re_ the one who gave me the second hit. If I'm not allowed Z and I’m not allowed you, then what am I allowed, Graverobber?”

Now it was his turn to stare at her, stunned, as she shook her head. 

”I know you don’t think about anybody apart from yourself, but you should at least try.”

Her voice was less angry and more defeated as she turned from him and began to walk away. He looked to the black sky, searching for stars that weren’t there and hadn’t been for as long as he could remember. When he looked back down at her retreating form there was conflict in his eyes.

"Shade."

She froze at the mention of her name, turning her head incrementally towards him.

"Are you going back to anyone?"

"What?" 

"Do you have anyone at home? Any friends staying over?"

"No."

"Then come back with me." 

She turned back to him, her expression cagey.

"Why?" 

"Just come with me." He insisted.

She looked over her shoulder, her mouth pulling to one side as she thought. He extended her hand out to her and she hesitantly stepped towards him, taking his outstretched hand. Following him deeper into the shady streets, she tried to focus on his rough calloused hand in hers instead of the dizzying labyrinth of narrow alleyways he was guiding her through. When they emerged, she immediately recognised his dilapidated block of flats despite not recognising any street leading up to it. His encyclopaedic knowledge of the city streets never failed to astound her.

His hand was still in hers as he pulled her up the stairs and into his flat. It was exactly as she remembered it through her Z-tinted eyes, only somehow it looked even dingier this time around. He dropped her hand and removed the worn leather pouch from his side as she settled herself onto his couch. 

"Why did you bring me here?" She asked, eyeing him begrudgingly.

"I told you the street stuff was stronger.”

He ignored her question, instead gesturing at her hands in her lap. She looked down to see that they were shaking. Her lips pursed and she clenched her fists to try and quell the movement.

"It seems I have something of my mother in me after all." She said quietly. 

"It's bad at first. It does get better, though, after a while."

"You mean you...?"

"Yeah. Before I got the whole 'don't get high on your own supply' memo." He said dismissively. "Doesn't make much sense to waste half your stock on yourself, then get high when you're supposed to be selling it."

"I suppose." She anxiously bit her little finger. "Do you ever go back?"

"Occasionally."

She nodded, her eyes straying back down to her shaking limbs. She looked distant, but not sad. It was another expression, that suffocating absence of emotion that he recognised as one of the most dangerous ways of feeling. He leaned towards her quickly, gripping her hand tightly to stop the shaking for himself.

"It's tempting, to just forget it all. But you can't do that." He assured her. "You've got to let yourself mourn, or every time you wake up from a Z trance you just feel worse and worse, until eventually you're not living at all. You're just passed out in alleyways and it's very easy to forget the difference between that life and just being straight-up dead."

Chewing the inside of her cheek, she looked down at his hand over her own.

”It’s hard.” She mumbled.

”I know.” He said earnestly before the corner of his lip twisted upwards slyly. "Here, I'll help you forget about it."

He leaned towards her, pressing his lips against hers and she instantly forgot about her shaking hands and the blue vials that had seemed so tempting. Now she was consumed by him, her chest rising to meet his as he kissed her, her hands twisting into his shirt. A hand encircled the base of her neck, setting her skin alight as it wrapped around her possessively.

She lifted herself onto his lap, her arms folded around the back of his head, fingers threading through his unkempt hair. His hands trailed from her neck down her back to settle on her rear, squeezing the flesh in his large hands. She slid herself down his lap to settle closer to his pelvis and they both gasped, briefly parting their lips. She pulled back, looking him determinedly.

"I don't want this to be out of pity, and I don't want it to be in exchange for Zydrate." She demanded.

"Fine."

His mind was obviously not in the same place as hers as he kissed her again eagerly, stopping her from making any more redundant remarks. Sliding his hands up her thighs, he hitched up her skirt to her waist, dragging his hands over her bare skin. She whined, her hands tightening in his hair as he explored her body. 

He felt along her sides, feeling for the puckers that betrayed a kidney replacement, but he couldn’t find any. All of the women he’d been with had at least one, if not both, of their kidneys removed thanks to NOS, and it was rare nowadays for someone’s kidneys not to have failed them. Curious but determined, he traced his hands up her spine- still no scars. He let his hands travel higher, probably far too directly and forcefully to be considered sexy, but she didn't protest as his hands ran up and over her chest, dragging along her collar bone. He stopped abruptly and removed his hands from under her dress.

Pulling back, he simply stared at her, aghast. Her eyes were wide and terrified and her whole body was tense, frozen in place as he stared. It took some time for him to formulate a coherent sentence and when he did his voice was low and distressed. 

"Where are your surgery scars?"

Her mouth opened and closed uselessly as she muddled through her thoughts.

”I-I’ve never had to explain this before.” 

”What do you mean?”

”I didn’t have NOS.”

She didn’t think that his eyes could get any wider, but somehow they did, and she shifted under his incredulous gaze.

”That’s impossible.” He muttered.

”No, just unlikely.” She corrected him, her hand twisting around her wrist anxiously. “I never needed any surgeries. My mom did. She always said I was lucky.”

Chucking darkly, her eyes clouded over with an ancient grudge she still hadn’t gotten over.

"She didn't let me have any surgery, not even anything cosmetic. All of the kids on the playground always showed off their scars, their new designer hearts and perfect organs. It was so fucking embarrassing not to have any scars. I hated my mother so much for it."

He thought back to all of the times he had seen her; sure enough, all he could remember her in was clothing that closed in close to her neck and never revealed any part of her torso, unlike all of those who bought from him. They wore clothes with low necklines to show off the heart surgery scars that Amber had made so popular, crop tops that revealed their scarred sides. But if she’d never had surgeries, that meant...

"So you'd never had Zydrate before?" He asked her gruffly.

She shook her head.

"You said-"

"I lied. I lied about everything so you might as well just get used to it.” 

Standing abruptly, she paced anxiously around the room. Not necessarily forwards and backwards, but here and there, pausing and continuing. Erratic. Like her current state of mind.

"I’ve never had to worry about the repo guy." She rambled as she paced. "I don't need new organs every few years. I'm fucking... weird. I'm a freak."

He joined her in standing, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder to stop her erratic pacing. She looked up at him, that fear still in her eyes. Leaning down, he kissed her gently, keeping their foreheads close as he reassured her.

”Listen. You are so fucking rare, do you have any idea how many people would kill to be you? I haven’t met anyone without surgery scars before...”

He kissed her again, his hands trailing down her body.

”You’re not a freak.”

His hand went to the zipper of her dress, stealing the breath from her body as he dragged it down. He pulled the dress from her body in a fluid motion, exposing her unmarked skin to the air.

“I’ll let you remember it this time.” He said, smirking into the crook of her neck.

Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly as she whined.

“Please.”

* * *

They fell asleep, entwined on the threadbare couch and when she woke again he was gone. She didn’t know why, but she had expected this time to be different. To wake to soft light and strong arms wrapped around her.

Instead, she woke to an empty room, her back aching and empty vials scattered on the table in front of her. The cold reality of it all set in; this was who Graverobber was. This was what he did to girls, what he had done to her every time. Left her on her own, her arms empty and body slowly growing cold. He was no man to base your life on. 

When she left that apartment, she resolved to never return to it again.

* * *

Two weeks later, a lone woman walked down an empty alley, her hair tied up neatly and a little badge displaying her name for all to see. A figure jumped down from the fire escape a few metres in front of her and she wasn’t alone any more. The person straightened out and she recognised their silhouette; she’d know those broad shoulders anywhere. She froze, not knowing what to do as the figure started walking towards her. 

“Shade.”

A familiar gravelly voice echoed through the alley and made the hairs rise on her arms.

“Where have you been?”

She started back, not anticipating to have been on Graverobber’s mind at all. He had been swirling in her thoughts near constantly since they parted but she hadn’t expected the same from him. She expected to merely be an afterthought, just another affair in the string of them he’d had before and probably had since. 

”I-I got a job.” She said, her voice wavering more than she wanted it to. “I’m a supervisor. Everyone’s a supervisor nowadays, I know. But the machines won’t turn on themselves, will they?”

She laughed nervously as he caught up to her, stopping far enough away so that his face was still obscured in shadow. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to take those last few steps towards her or whether it was better that she couldn’t see the face that made her heart skip.

“Good. Good.”

He repeated himself as if he was trying to convince himself that it was, in fact, good.

“I thought you didn’t want me to come back to you?” She asked.

At that, he stepped forward and into the light and her chest tightened at the predatory look in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to devour her whole.

“Not for Z, no.”

“C’mon Graves, did you really expect me to stick around when you’re fucking every one of those girls in that alley of yours? They might need you but I don’t yet. I’m not getting any younger and I need more than the occasional fling in an alley.”

He stepped even closer, his chest inches from her face as he lifted his hand. Fondling the tiny heart pendant that hung around her neck, he imagined her mother, dead and buried beneath the ground. She’d be dug up before long, either by him or some other graverobber. Someone who had never known her as a person and only knew her as a corpse, never knew she had a daughter who cared and tried so hard to be a good person in this fucked world.

“I’m not getting any younger either.” He muttered, his thumb rubbing over the pendant.

“And that’s what you want, is it? A neat little apartment, a wife on your arm? You’re kidding yourself.”

“I love you.”

She let out a burst of laughter that sounded empty and hollow bouncing off of the brick walls. She winced at how horrid it sounded but didn’t apologise, even though his earnest face made his heart break. 

“I’m sorry, Graves. I don’t believe you.”

”I’ll prove it to you.”

”Alright.” She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her hip. “Don’t sleep with anyone else for a month. Then I’ll believe you.”

He nodded, the muscles in his jaw flexing and eyes burning into her. She stepped back from the heat of his gaze, her heart hurting as she passed him and made her way down the empty alley.

“See you around, Graverobber.”


End file.
